Little House
by brookegrace
Summary: She's in Tree Hill. She's twenty-seven. She's slightly taller than when she was eighteen, and thinner too. She's not cheery, nor is she brave. Not even close. She's just what those that did not know her expect her to become.


_The song is "Little House" by Amanda Seyfried. She's my favorite actress ever, idol, role model. The song is beautiful and inspired me to write this. I don't know where this is going at all, so hopefully it makes sense and you enjoy it. Please review?  
_

-X-

_I love this place  
But it's haunted without you _

There's a sense of serene calmness as she watches the waves explode onto the shore in perfect sync. She knows that such a view would be envied by most, but right now, it's as if they're a haunting reminder of her life.

A reminder of where she is, what season it is, why she is so lonely.

She's not mad, bitter, or depressed, just numb. She's made the first steps towards acceptance, and sometimes she even finds herself almost finding contentment with this life, but those feelings are short lived.

How can they possibly be long lasting when the view behind the glass reminds her of everything her life isn't?

She tells herself just one more minute, then she'll get to planing the rest of her life.

Something that she used to promise to herself when she was a controversial High Schooler that loved her sleep.

She's not a high schooler anymore, not even close. But some habits die hard, this being one of the many.

She doesn't have to look at the clock to properly time herself, her body's become it's own. Counting down until it's an acceptable time to will herself to sleep. Counting down until Haley looks away so she can wipe away the fake smile. Counting down every second until it's an acceptable time to drink without Haley accusing her of being an alcoholic.

Which she is, but the busy young mother does not need one more burden. Or maybe Brooke just doesn't want to admit one more of her weaknesses.

The gray water continues to draw her in. She doesn't understand how something so vast and empty can symbolize her life, but oddly enough, it does.

She's in Tree Hill.

She's twenty-seven.

She's slightly taller than the time where she was eighteen.

Her waist is thinner, and her clothing more expensive, which some find almost impossible.

She's not cheery, nor is she brave. Not even close.

She's just Brooke, she's just what those that did not know her expect her to become.

And she thinks that maybe that's her downfall – letting those that do not know you measure her worth, but she's rationalized that even her supposed friends don't know her anymore either.

_My tired heart  
Is beating so slow _

She sees a family run down the beach. Stopping almost perfectly in front of her expensive beach home. Go away, she thinks, this is private property.

They do not.

A little girl falls, only to be quickly picked up by her worried mother. She can almost read the inaudible declarations of love and assurances that her sand scraped knee will stop hurting.

Brooke thinks her heart just beat one thump slower.

The family leaves, and once again it is just her and the ocean. She contemplates going down there, but she's acquired a new fear of sharks and she doesn't really like cold weather.

When the Sun finally disappears, and all sign of the existence of the water is the beating of the waves, she gets up from her sitting position.

She cringes slightly as her fading bruises squeeze the last bit of torture into her. She curses herself loudly.

Her designs are still missing and so is her mother.

That does not stop her from vowing revenge though, she's too angry to realize that her attacker was not tied to her mother.

And maybe if it hadn't been for Quentin's funeral earlier, she would have been deep into planning by now, but lying to those that were once close to you really takes a toll emotionally.

Specially when said people believe that stairs can cause a bruise in the shape of a hand print.

Or maybe she's just become so good at lying.

Or maybe they've just learned to believe her lies, because with Brooke Davis, it always seems a lot easier than the truth.

She doesn't blame them though. Specially Haley.

Once she thought that Haley could be that best friend that heart warming movies always seems to have, but Brooke is too fucked up inside to even have one of those.

Well, she did have Haley at some point, but Haley doesn't really know how to deal with someone's pain when she herself is in perfect bliss.

_James_, Brooke thinks. A smile almost erupting through those pale lips.

Her blonde God son has always had a special place in her heart.

And she finds it almost ironic that a five year old can understand the unspoken pain that she feels inside. He demonstrated it today, as he held her hand, and innocently remained silent as he rubbed her back like his mother always did when he was sad.

He doesn't understand real pain, even the death of Quentin does not hold the menacing emotions that it does to those older, but he does understand that when someone is sad, they can not be lonely.

So as his mom buckles him into the car seat, ignoring the lonely Brooke that stands under a tree watching them, he can not apprehend why his mother does not hold her.

_Our hearts sing 'cause  
We do not know _

She feels the familiar prickle of tears behind her lids, but she does not let them fall. Her gaze is strong and her jaw clenches, as she tries to ignore the bubbling pain inside.

There is a soft knock at the door, and momentarily, she freezes.

The knocking comes again, and the urgency behind it is clearly heard. She wonders who it could be, because she honestly does not know.

No one visits her anymore.

Wrapping the shawl tightly around her frail body, she opens the door.

She's confused for a second, and even considers telling him that Peyton does not live here anymore, but surely, he knows. After all, she did leave Brooke to live with him.

"Can I come in?" he asks, blue orbs gazing at her in that squinty way of his.

It's not cute anymore, she thinks, but of course, she does not tell him.

Stepping aside, he quickly walks inside, almost as if he's afraid that one of their friends might drive by and spot him.

He doesn't have to worry, no one checks in on Brooke.

"Why are all your lights off?" He's facing away from her large back window, the one where the ocean is found, and the moon light almost casts the cool light upon him.

She has a philosophical moment and thinks that in some deep way he might be the key to break her away from the emptiness, but Brooke quickly ushers it away as nonsense.

"I like it like this," she says simply, her hands still tightly wrapped around her body. Almost as if she lets go of herself, she'll literally break apart in front of him.

"You're afraid of the dark."

"I _was_ afraid of the dark," she honestly corrects, and satisfaction is a close emotion she feels when his face momentarily contorts into sadness.

He doesn't know her anymore, but he won't admit that.

"I came to check in on you," he explains, his blue eyes back to those slits that form when he's calculating what to say. Hes uncomfortable, she can tell, but there's also concern mixed within it.

"Your hero complex kicking in?" she asks mockingly in her bitter voice.

He ignores her words, because he knows acknowledging the comment will only sprout a fight, and he doesn't feel like fighting with someone that can almost be classified as an acquaintance.

"What happened to you?" he asks, almost whispers.

She can tell that he's been asking himself this for the last few years, but it's easier to think lowly of his question, so she offers the most simple answer, which she knows is not what he means.

"I'm clumsy, I fell."

"Brooke," he warns, his voice soft yet stern, and the thought that he thinks he can question her ignites something she hasn't felt in a while.

"Don't, Lucas," she too warns, but there is no softness in her voice.

"I know you didn't fall down the stairs," he almost yells, cynically. And I guess her simple answer momentarily works, because he forgets the initial question - what caused Brooke Davis to turn into this?

She's taken back abruptly, but her facade is quickly put back in place, tighter than before, if anything.

"I don't know what you want me to say."

"Maybe the truth."

"It is the truth."

"Brooke, I don't need you to admit to me that you're sad for me to tell."

"I'm not sad," she fights back defiantly, her throat beginning to tighten in that threatening way.

"Brooke, please, tell me what happened." He begs, he pleads.

And as she sees that mirrored worry, fear and pain that his eyes shed for her the day she was leaving to spend her summer in California, she lets her walls down as she sobs the story into his chest.

_It is not said  
I always know _

Her tears have now stopped falling, but the left over saltiness upon her bruised face is a constant reminder of her weakness.

Damn Lucas Scott, she thinks, he's always been her weakness.

"Why didn't you come to us?" he asks once her breathing has become even.

He asks because he does not understand. He still does not comprehend how selfless Brooke is, and again she is reminded that he does not know her. Not even a little.

"There was no point."

"Brooke, we're your friends, we would have helped you through this."

"I helped myself just fine." She thinks back to the loaded gun that is safely hidden in her bedroom. Pretty soon she'll get her revenge and fix this whole thing on her own.

And maybe after, she thinks, she'll use the little money she has left to adopt a kid.

She knows that won't happen though, her mother has done a good job of making sure of that.

"But Brooke, we're your friends," he repeats again, and this time Brooke can't help but look at him. She needs to know if he honestly believes this, or if it's a lie he's even telling himself.

The uncertainty in his eyes makes her choose the latter.

"Honestly, Lucas, we haven't had a real conversation in years," she declares with sadnes, her husky voice unwillingly reminding him of the hundreds of nights they spent together in High School, hiding in his room whispering so his mother would not know.

"But we're still friends," he whispers sadly, and this time she can tell that's he's desperate to believe the one thing that they both know is not true.

"We've changed, Lucas."

"I wish I knew what happened to us."

"We just," she begins, but stops herself. She knows that the next few words will forever hold the cause for the resentment he will always feel towards her. "We were never friends."

"Yes, we were," he contradicts with sadness in his voice, and she thinks that her heart is playing tricks on her, but when the tear does fall, she knows that he really is crying for _them_.

"You never really knew me, Luke," she says sadly, a melancholy smile her only tool of hiding how much hurt she's feeling inside. "You don't know me now and I don't know you either."

"I'm sorry for hurting you."

"I'm sorry too."

"I'm sorry someone hurt you," he whispers again, this time his voice cracking. She wants to tell him that he's wrong, but when he touches the outline of a bruise below her eye, she can not.

Instead she lets the tears that fall affirm what she does not dare to verbally confirm.

He leaves, believing the facade that she's tightly mastered. And if anything her heart hurts more than ever before - it hurts that he believes that she loves him so little.

_Please don't make a fuss  
It won't go away _

She knows that he wants to rescue her from her demons, she knows that he won't and can't. The damage has been done, and at the end of the day, he's with Peyton. And as much as anyone in Tree Hill is concerned, they were destined to be together.

So as much as it hurts, she does not proclaim her love. She packs her bags, gun safely in tow and heads for New York. She'll find her mom, and get her revenge.

She'll leave the little house that she bought when she returned to Tree Hill. The little house that she bought with the secret hope and longing that one day it would be his and hers. She's never acknowledged it or even realized that the secret desire was there, but as she walks outside and takes one last look, she realizes that her subconscious dream will never be anything more.

She'll try to forget the High School love that has left her crushed. But she knows that forgetting him is a loss cause – she'll forever be hung up over Lucas Scottt.

_Thoughts?_


End file.
